Deborah Shouse
Deborah Shouse wanders around Kansas and wonders about love.
A Portrait Of Angels
Later, when Sheldon stood up to leave, Anna saw the angel hovering right behind him, between him and the door. She wondered what would happen if Sheldon collided with her angel. Would the angel be shattered, smashed, burst into shards of light? Or would Sheldon emerge glowing, shining with a delicious softness?
November 1994Survivors
“It was winter when the commandant ordered us girls loaded into the truck,” my mother says. “We were naked, all young girls, maybe twelve, thirteen years old. You —” she points at me, “you would die with embarrassment at being naked in front of so many people.”
June 1993Promises
Driving home from work, Bones rehearsed what he’d say when he broke up with Linda. “I got to get out,” he might say. Or, “I’m no good for you.”
October 1992Unarmed
Mac took twenty toothpicks out of his pocket and built a fort around his beer. He didn’t want to look at Eddie. He knew Eddie was headed for trouble.
March 1992It Is Summer And I Paint My Toenails Magenta
It is summer. I sit on the balcony and paint my toenails magenta. Last year, I painted them cerise, Peter’s favorite color. The year before, my toes bloomed baby pink in honor of Angela, my daughter.
May 1991Separate From Love
Women hold gloved hands over your face, protect you from what really happens in the world, then laugh at your awkwardness.
August 1990Living In Lotus
Ever since the therapist said, “Rebecca, if only you’d let go once in a while, relax, flow, you’d be a lot happier,” I’d been trying to write in the lotus position.
August 1989Summer
The summer I was fifteen my father moved out, my breasts grew in, and my mother told me to call her Eve.
July 1989The Things We Learn
I know what he learns in church: Jews killed Christ. He knows what I learn in Temple: how to kill Christ and get away with it.
June 1989Walking
Clea took my hand and we swung arms like little kids. At college, I would never hold hands walking down the street. But here, I didn’t care who saw me or what they thought.
November 1988
Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
SEND US A LETTER